Till the End of the Line
by i-like-bunnies529
Summary: The Captain just wants to help his friend, but the Winter Soldier doesn't want help. How can Steve save Bucky from himself? (Set after Captain America 2)
1. Chapter 1

"On your left!"

"C'mon, man!" Sam panted as Steve sprinted past him, barely out of breath. "Thirteen miles and you haven't broken a sweat?"

Steve just laughed and raced up the path. Ever since Sam had helped the Captain and Natasha out of tight spot (the possible homicide of 20 million people, a rogue Nazi cult concealed within a corrupt government agency, Steve's best friend back from the dead... nothing too unusual), Sam had joined Steve on his morning run. Although Steve protested that he was fine by himself, he had to admit it was nice to have company. Unbidden, a familiar phrase ran through his head.

_...I'm with you till the end of the line..._

Steve shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. Even though Natasha had given him the Winter Soldier's file—which had proved to be practically useless, as all the information was encrypted so thoroughly that even Stark hadn't broken the code yet—both she and Sam thought Bucky was a lost cause. But they hadn't seen him that day on the helicarrier. Steve had seen the look in Bucky's eyes, right before they were both thrown from the explosion a mile above the city. Just for a second, Bucky had remembered who he was. Somehow, Steve had gotten through to him during their fight. After all, for the past week, Bucky had been following Steve on his morning run.

Steve didn't think Bucky knew that Steve had noticed him. He never said anything or tried to approach. Steve never even directly saw him; Bucky was too skilled at concealing himself for that. It was just a feeling of being watched, or seeing something shift in the shadows behind a tree or on the roof of a building.

Suddenly, Steve realized he was getting tired. His heart pounded against his chest. How long had he been running? He was already nearing the Lincoln memorial. He glanced behind him—Sam was nowhere in sight. Slowing his pace to a walk, Steve made his way over to the scuffed white marble steps and leaned against the rail to wait.

Ten minutes passed. Sam still hadn't caught up, but someone else had.

Steve took a deep breath and stood. "Bucky. I know you're there."

Nothing.

"I... I just want to talk." Steve cleared his throat. "I know you pulled me from the river that day."

Something compelled Steve to turn around, and when he did, he saw a lean but muscular figure standing a few feet away. His choppy brown hair fell nearly to his shoulders, and he was wearing a coat and gloves instead of his usual black masked ensemble, but his frigid blue eyes stared right at Steve. His posture seemed casual, but Steve knew he was poised to fight or run at any moment.

"I just want to help you, Bucky," Steve said, taking a step forward. The man stiffened, and Steve held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I don't want to fight you. We used to be friends, remember?"

"I..." The Winter Soldier's voice was raspy, like it hadn't been used in a long time. "I don't remember anything, except..." He drew in a ragged breath, then said suddenly, "Why do you call me that?"

"It's your name. James Buchanan Barnes." Steve took another step forward, and this time Bucky didn't flinch away. "And I'm Steve, Steve Rogers. That scrawny kid you used to save from thugs in alleyways. We served in the army together in the forties. We were best friends."

Bucky was shaking his head. "You're wrong. You're wrong. That can't be... I'm not... I just follow orders. I do what they tell me so the pain will stop. They said... they said I was helping people." He looked away, clenching his fists.

Steve hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder. "Bucky, I know people who can help you, people who understand what you've been through—"

Something in the Winter Soldier snapped. "_No one understands what I've been through!_" he screamed, and Steve didn't even have time to raise a hand to defend himself before the metal arm slammed into his chest. He flew backward and crashed against the steps.

A woman shrieked, and a group of tourists immediately raised their cameras and started snapping photos. A man shoved his baby into his wife's arms and grabbed his phone, no doubt to dial 911. A minute later, sirens began wailing a few blocks away.

One hand bracing what was probably a fractured rib, Steve staggered to his feet. "Bucky, I don't know what they've done to you, but I know you can fight it."

The Winter Soldier drew a gun from within his coat and leveled it at Steve, switching the safety off with a click. "You don't know anything about me."

Steve was undeterred. "You're better than this. HYDRA's gone, you've got nowhere to go... let me help you."

"I don't need your help!" He fired, and Steve dove out of the way. A nearby couple sitting on the steps screamed and ran for cover. The sirens were getting louder.

Steve remained crouched on the ground, but his eyes were focused on Bucky. "Then just let me be your friend again."

Something in Bucky's expression shifted, and he lowered the gun a fraction. "I..."

"What the hell is going on here?" Sam shoved his way through the gathering crowd, sweaty and gasping for breath, just as several police cars skidded to a halt in the street, sirens screaming.

"Sir, put your hands above your head," an officer shouted as he leaped out of the car, slamming the door shut behind him and reaching for his gun.

Steve swore under his breath. When he looked back to where Bucky had just been standing, there was no one there. He'd vanished just as quickly as he had come.

With a sigh, Steve raised his hands.


	2. Chapter 2

"Are you going to tell me what's going on, Captain?"

Steve shifted uncomfortably in his chair. After a "brief" interrogation that lasted more than a few hours, the police had reluctantly let him go when he made it clear he didn't want to talk about what happened. But on his way back to his apartment, he'd received a call from Agent Hill. Fury wanted to chat.

Now, Fury leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk between them. "Cap, I know the Soldier was your friend. But that was the past. You and I both know what he can do. He killed dozens of our men and nearly facilitated the mass murder of millions of American citizens. As long as he's not on our side, he's a threat. If you know anything about his whereabouts, it's your duty as a soldier to tell us any information that could help us find him."

Steve met Fury's eyes. "With all due respect, sir, I'm not your soldier anymore. SHIELD's done. I don't have to tell you anything."

Fury's one eye narrowed. "I see. Very well, Cap. We'll conduct a search on our own." He nodded his dismissal, and Steve rose from his seat. "But I know what this is about," Fury added. Steve paused and glanced back. "You're convinced you can save him," Fury continued. "But let me tell you a lesson I've learned the hard way over the years." He adjusted his eye patch and leaned back in his chair. "Men like that don't want saving."

His expression blank, Steve gave no indication that he had heard. "Do I have your leave to go, sir?"

Fury sighed. "Go on, then."

Steve strode down the hallway of Fury's temporary headquarters and pushed through the doors, merging with the rush of people outside hurrying home from work or school. The sky was blanketed in thick gray clouds, but Steve barely noticed when the first drops began to fall. For almost a year after he'd woken up, the hustle and bustle of modern city life had been... disquieting, to say the least. Now, dodging overweight joggers, businessmen yelling into their smart phones, and skateboarding teens with their ear buds in was almost second nature.

Steve thought back on what Fury had said. _Men like that don't want saving. _But Fury hadn't known Bucky before he became a Soviet killing machine. Steve had. He was certain that something of his old friend remained in the Winter Soldier; he'd seen it in him this morning. Sure, Bucky had tried to shoot him, but he'd also listened to what Steve had said.

Lost in his thoughts, Steve didn't even see the woman in the green sweater until he slammed into her shoulder, making her drop her bag. "Sorry, ma'am," he apologized as he bent to pick up her purse. It was surprisingly heavy. She glanced at him crossly, snatched her bag out of his grasp, and shoved past him without a word. Apparently, courtesy was yet another concept that had become outdated in recent years.

It only took Steve a few minutes to walk to his apartment complex. He quickly unlocked the door and strode inside, shutting it quietly behind him.

He froze. Something was off.

Not making a sound, he eased into the kitchen. His laptop's screensaver was still running, and his To Do list, with "Trouble Man (Soundtrack)" recently crossed off, was in the same place on the table. As far as he could tell, nothing had been tampered with. He looked over the room with a critical eye. Steve had always been an organized guy, but things seemed a bit cleaner than usual. He ran a hand along the countertop. It was almost like someone had wiped down all the surfaces to remove any traces of fingerprints.

Steve slid the window open and looked out. Hesitating only for a second, he nimbly maneuvered out of the window and jumped down into the dingy alleyway below, landing with a soft thud. He straightened and looked around. Nothing. Then he glanced behind him again, and saw a familiar tall figure standing in the middle of the alley.

Clad in his typical black combat pants and vest with a gun slung across his back, the only thing missing was his mask. His left arm gleamed dully in the shadows, the silver and red metal glinting.

"You didn't tell Fury where I was," the Winter Soldier said. He took a step closer. "Why?"

"I didn't even know for sure where you were," Steve protested, deciding not to question how Bucky knew what he and Fury had been discussing in a supposedly secure location. The Soldier stared at him blankly, so Steve elaborated: "I told you, we were friends. I'm not going to turn you in. I want to help—" Remembering how Bucky had reacted the last time help was mentioned, Steve abruptly rethought his wording. "What I mean is, I want you to trust me. I can... show you another way, a better way, to live. You can be your own person; you don't have to take orders from HYDRA, or whatever organization you work for now." Steve smiled tentatively. "I meant it when I said I'm with you till the end of the line."

Bucky blinked. He seemed uncertain. "Till the end of the line," he repeated. A smile crossed his face.

Suddenly Bucky frowned. He swung around to look up at the rooftops above them. Then, faster than thought, his metal arm darted up to snatch an arrow out of the air just before it pierced his neck.

"A tranquilizer," he said flatly. Hurt flashed across his features before his expression deadened into an icy mask again. He crushed the arrow between his fingertips. "Guess you did tell someone."

And then black SUVs were pulling up in the street, tires squealing against the asphalt, and men were pouring out into the alley with guns held out in front of them, and someone was shouting, "Captain, back away from the Winter Soldier. Soldier, drop your weapons!"

A woman in a green sweater leaped out of one of the cars, raising a radio to her mouth and saying, "Sir, we've got him." She met Steve's eyes, and he recognized her instantly. Steve wanted to hit himself for being so ignorant. Fury had been tracking him all along.

The Winter Soldier looked at them, his eyes dead. He reached for something on his belt.

"Drop your weapons or we will fire!"

Steve finally found his voice. "What are you doing? This man is my friend, he's not—"

He paused when another man leaped down from the roof, landing in a crouch next to him. "Just let them take him in, Rogers," Barton advised, standing and nocking an arrow. "It's better this way."

That was when Steve noticed a small metal ball rolling along the ground. It came to a halt at his feet. It took Steve only a second to surmise what it was. He glanced up at Bucky, who stared back at him coldly.

Steve grabbed Clint's shoulder and threw both himself and Barton to the ground. "_Get down!_"

And then the world exploded.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a deafening boom, and Steve and Clint were hurled into the street. Barton's head hit the curb with a sickening crack. One of the SUVs had flipped when the grenade hit, and a man was crushed underneath it, his lifeless eyes still wide open in shock. Another van was on fire, red flames licking its sides. Passing cars swerved in the street to avoid the carnage. One man started to get out of his car, saying, "What the hell's going on? Should I call 911?"

"Sir, this is a police operation, please get back in your vehicle—"

An officer darted past, shouting frantically into his radio. "I repeat, we need backup right away—"

Steve lurched to his feet. Apart from his side, which was still sore from this morning despite his efficiency at healing, he was unhurt. He quickly checked on Clint, who lay unconscious on the ground. The head injury didn't seem too serious.

A helicopter was already moving in, whirring loudly. "_All civilians need to vacate the area immediately,_" a voice crackled through a microphone.

Steve could just barely make out the figure of the Winter Soldier through the smoke. With an almost unnatural grace, the Soldier grabbed a fire escape railing with one hand and swung himself onto the roof, then vaulted onto a nearby building, leaping from one roof to the next at an inhuman speed. Fury's team followed in the streets below. As Steve watched, one section split off and headed toward the river, no doubt hoping to cut him off.

"Captain!" Agent Hill was there, drawing her gun out of its holster. "Captain, Director Fury does not want you to engage unless absolutely necessary; he fears your personal connection with the operation could impair your judgment—"

"How many times do I have to tell him?" Steve took a running start and jumped toward the alley wall, one hand just catching the edge of the brickwork before he hauled himself through the window and into his apartment. "I don't work for SHIELD anymore!"

Steve dashed through the living room and found his shield leaning against the wall in the hallway. He grabbed it and leaped back out of the window. Then he sprinted toward the conflict.

A block away, the Winter Soldier skidded to a halt as he landed on an office building. One of Fury's teams had managed to intercept him and was now climbing up the fire escape. When the first man reached the top of the ladder, Bucky's boot connected with his face, and the officer fell with a shout. As more men poured onto the roof, the Soldier dodged the first few bullets and slammed one of the officers into the ground, grabbing her wrist as he did so. She managed to shoot him twice in the hand as they struggled, but he didn't even seem to notice as he bent her wrist back until it broke with a sharp crack. She yelped in pain. He grabbed her gun before it could fall from her limp fingers and hauled her up in front of him.

"Let me go, or she dies," he hissed. His right hand was slippery with blood from his wound, but it did not waver as he jammed the gun against the officer's head.

That was when Steve burst onto the roof.

"Bucky," he yelled. "Bucky, you don't want to do this. This isn't you."

Suddenly, the helicopter was looming over them, the wind from its rotors stirring up dust and gravel. "_Sir, put the gun down and release the hostage,_" the pilot said into the microphone.

The Winter Soldier stared at Steve. For a second, Steve thought he was going to laugh, but then his expression contorted into rage. There was no trace of Bucky Barnes in his eyes when he said quietly, "I told you before. You don't know anything about me."

Then he shot the officer in the head.

Fury's team opened fire, but the Soldier was already running. A bullet caught him in the leg and he staggered, but then he was flying off the roof and landing with a thump on top of the helicopter.

The helicopter tilted and began to dip down. The Winter Soldier raised his metal arm and punched the windshield. It cracked, but didn't shatter. The pilot frantically worked the controls, futilely trying to steady the chopper, but the Soldier punched again, broke through, and heaved the pilot out of his seat, tossing him to the ground below.

With a groan, the helicopter leaned sideways and smashed into the side of the building. Steve leaped off, landing on the ground in a roll just as the chopper exploded four stories above his head. Burning debris rained down, but Steve blocked the falling rubble with his shield and got to his feet, desperately looking around for Bucky.

The Winter Soldier was kneeling in the wreckage. A long piece of metal from the helicopter had impaled him through the shoulder. Wincing in pain, he pulled out the bloody shard and looked at it curiously before throwing it to the ground. Then he stood, swaying unsteadily. He tried to flex his left arm, but it twitched and sparked, the gleaming metal grimy and blackened.

During the fight on the roof, it looked like reinforcements had finally turned up. More vans had arrived, and at least thirty men quickly had the Soldier surrounded.

Agent Hill strode up to stand beside Steve. "All right, boys," she said into her headset. "There's nowhere he can run this time. Cuff him."

A couple of men jogged forward and forced the Winter Soldier to his knees before fastening a pair of unusually thick silver handcuffs (vibranium alloy, Steve suspected) around his wrists. He didn't resist. He just looked down at the ground. Steve couldn't see his expression.

Suddenly he laughed. The men holding him down looked at each other warily before pulling him to his feet and shoving him toward one of the vans.

"It's funny, you see," Bucky said, still laughing as they secured him inside the back of the car. "They always told me I couldn't feel anything."


	4. Chapter 4

Steve couldn't help but feel like this was a bad idea.

He had brought a book from his To Do list with him—something about a teenage wizard whose glasses even Steve thought were a bit old-fashioned—but he couldn't bring himself to read it.

Instead, he gazed through the window as city scenery flashed by in smudges of gray and brown, and tried to remember exactly how he had ended up on the next train to New York.

It was all Clint's doing. Well, Natasha had helped. She was the kind of person who could manipulate you into doing whatever she wanted, and the whole time, you would think it was all of your own volition.

Steve sighed. It had been a long day.

* * *

After the Winter Soldier's successful capture, Agent Hill had offered Steve a ride to Fury's new secret base. "I expect you'll want to see where we're taking him," she'd said. Steve had thanked her politely and tried to hide the fact that all he really wanted to do was punch something.

When Steve followed Agent Hill into the back of one of Fury's SUVs, he was surprised to find Barton waiting for him, clutching an ice pack to his head. "I'm fine, before you ask," the archer muttered. "And don't ask me what happened to my quiver."

"What happened to your quiver?"

"Six brand-new Stark issued explosive arrows, each with a radio activated detonator, all gone," Clint said promptly. "Tony's gonna kill me; he let me borrow them so I could test a couple out in combat, not so I could get them all blown up in one go. Not to mention my sonic arrows. Those are easier to replace, but still! And I don't even want to think about what Nat's going to have to say about it." He paused and glanced at Steve. "Please don't tell her I passed out."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Clint grinned.

Steve stared out the window, taking note of each turn the car took. Wherever they were headed, it certainly wasn't SHIELD's old headquarters, nor was it the office building where Steve met with Fury just a couple hours before.

"So..." Steve began. "What's going on with SHIELD? Fury said it was finished, but judging from today, they're still carrying out operations."

Barton shrugged. "Who knows? I thought I had the highest classification level, but apparently that's not the case, since I only learned Fury was alive about a week ago. All I know is, they've moved their DC headquarters, fired half the staff, and are in the process of rewriting their mission statement. But Nat and I have still got jobs."

When the car finally slowed to a stop, Steve got out and looked around. He vaguely recognized the area; they were fairly close to the White House. But the base itself came as a surprise.

Although SHIELD's supposed purpose was to keep national security threats under the wraps, its bases were generally a bit ostentatious. The building in front of Steve, however, resembled the average government complex... at least, from the outside. Steve wouldn't be surprised if its basement extended beneath the entire block.

"This way, Captain." Agent Hill appeared behind him, and he followed her into the building.

"We're taking the Winter Soldier down to one of our more secure lower levels," she explained as they boarded an elevator. "He should have just arrived now."

They reached the correct floor and stepped out into what looked like an underground vehicle storage space. It was huge, maybe the size of a baseball stadium. Several small planes and tanks were lined up along the cement walls; there was even what looked the salvaged remains of a SHIELD helicarrier. A few mechanics were gathered around a table, arguing heatedly over a set of blueprints, while a group of official-looking men in suits strolled past the array of vehicles, clipboards in their hands.

But Steve ignored all this and instead focused on the van that had just driven up. Several agents immediately encircled it, and as he watched, one man quickly tapped out a code into the keypad of the back door and swung it open. Two officers climbed out, supporting the Winter Soldier between them.

Steve frowned. "Has he gotten any medical attention yet?" he asked, turning to Agent Hill. "He was injured during your... retrieval."

She didn't respond, because she was already striding forward to greet the agents. "Everything went okay during transport?"

"Yeah," one of the men answered. "He's still cuffed, of course, as a precaution, but that metal arm thing of his doesn't seem to be working all that well—"

Bucky slumped to the ground, and one of the agents flanking him grabbed his shoulder and tried to heave him back up without success. His hand came away covered in blood. Frowning, the agent put a finger against Bucky's neck. "Agent Hill, his pulse is erratic—"

"He needs medical attention!" Steve said angrily. A couple of the agents tried to hold him back, but he shoved them away.

Agent Hill muttered something into her headset, and then a team of paramedics was hurrying forward. After a brief examination, one of them yelled, "We need a stretcher over here!"

"We've got a severe puncture wound in the right shoulder, looks like there might be arterial bleeding-"

"He's hemorrhaging, quick, we need to apply pressure to the subclavian artery or he'll bleed out-"

They loaded Bucky onto a gurney and shoved him through a side door, where several doctors joined them. Steve ran after them through the hallway. "Where are you taking him?"

"Operation room," one of the doctors replied curtly. "He needs surgery if we're going to stop the internal bleeding in time." She checked Bucky's pulse again. "Shit, he's going into cardiac arrest, hand me the defibrillator - quick, ice packs around the head, we need to ease the swelling—" They shoved past Steve and through a different door, letting it slam shut behind them.

And that was how Captain America ended up waiting in the hallway for an hour while SHIELD doctors operated on his back-from-the-dead best friend turned assassin.

Agent Hill dropped by once to check on the surgeons' progress. "Fury still wants to interrogate him," she explained to Steve. "He might know vital information on HYDRA's top members..." She trailed off when she saw Steve wasn't paying any attention. "Right, well... I'll leave you to it." She left rather quickly.

Steve kept replaying the events of the day in his head, trying to sort out his feelings. He didn't know what to think about the Winter Soldier. For a while, before Fury sent his team in and everything went to hell, Bucky had seemed almost like his old self. But when he killed that woman, when he laughed after tearing the metal fragment out of his shoulder... there had been no remorse in his eyes, just a sort of macabre bleakness.

Steve had been so focused on saving Bucky that he hadn't even considered the possibility that some things are too broken to fix.

"Rogers!" Clint strolled through the hallway and leaned against the wall to face Steve. "I heard you were still down here. Listen, I'm sorry about all this. Shooting at your friend, and stuff. Even though I didn't actually hit him, I feel bad about it."

Steve tried to smile, but it came off as more of a grimace. "Clint... did you know Fury was conducting this operation behind my back?"

Barton coughed awkwardly. "...No."

"You're a terrible liar, considering you work for an intelligence agency."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"We both knew," a smooth voice interrupted. Steve and Clint spun around. Natasha was standing against the opposite wall of the hallway.

"How long have you been there?" Clint demanded.

She ignored him. "Or rather, Clint's superiors told him, and I... figured it out. Fury didn't tell me much of anything about the operation. He seemed to think our personal connection might influence me to inform you of it."

"Wait... personal connection? I know I was away on a mission for a while, but really?" Clint raised his eyebrows. Natasha glared at him, and he held up his hands defensively. "Okay, okay. None of my business, I get it." He turned to Steve. "Look, I didn't agree with it, but what was I supposed to say? It's my job. I didn't know the operation would end so..." He glanced towards the surgery room. "Poorly," he finished.

"Yes, about that," Natasha added, taking a step forward. "Steve... what are you doing?"

"What do you mean, what am I doing? He's my friend, and I need to make sure he's all right. It's my fault that all of this happened. I'm not leaving until the doctors say he's okay," Steve said stubbornly.

"He's going to be fine," Clint said, rolling his eyes. "He's past the critical stage by this point. If something was going to go wrong, it would have already happened."

Steve didn't respond.

"Rogers... you've been waiting, what, an hour and a half? You need to get out. Do something to take your mind off it."

"I don't know..." Steve said slowly.

"Come on! You know I'm right."

Natasha's phone beeped. She briefly glanced at its screen and said, "Sorry, boys, I've got to go." She started to walk back down the hallway, but stopped to look back over her shoulder. "Oh, by the way, Steve, Stark called. Says he's finally gotten somewhere on decoding Bucky's file. He invited you to come over to his place in NYC and check it out, if you're interested." Then she was gone.

Steve was silent for a bit. Suddenly, he turned to Clint and asked, "When's the next train to New York?"

Three and a half hours later, Steve was standing in front of Stark Tower. It was as grand and flashy as ever; since the Battle of New York, Tony had made quite a few renovations. The only thing left to fix was the glowing sign at the top, which still had only an A remaining.

Not for the first time, Steve thought about turning back. He and Stark weren't exactly on the best of terms. Instead, he took a deep breath and walked through the doors.

"Welcome to Avengers Tower, Captain Rogers."

* * *

**Wow, suddenly that got super Avengers-y. Let me know if you like all the Avengers references, or if you'd rather have me focus solely on Captain America. **

**A couple things:**

**First, thank you SO MUCH for all your support! If you've read this far in my story, you're amazing. I love every review, favorite, follow, etc. **

**Second, unfortunately, I won't be able to update quite as frequently as I have in the past because I'm going on a school trip. But don't worry, I promise it won't be more than two weeks. **

**Thanks, and I hope you liked the chapter! **


	5. Chapter 5

_"Welcome to Avengers Tower, Captain Rogers."_

Once, Steve might have been shocked to hear a voice emanate from the walls, but now he was almost used to Stark's AI. "Hello, JARVIS," he responded awkwardly. Steve was never sure where he was supposed to look when talking to JARVIS. He settled for making eye contact with a rather ugly painting (Pepper's idea, he suspected) across the room. "Uh, do you know where I can find Stark?"

"Mr. Stark is currently working in the Research and Development department on the 84th floor. Although it is after hours, he has informed me that you are welcome to meet with him anytime."

After hours? Steve checked his watch. It was already past 11:00. He hadn't even paid attention to the time.

He headed toward the elevator, glancing around the lobby as he did so. He hadn't seen Stark Tower since its renovations. Three of the room's walls were whitewashed and bare, with Pepper's painting and a plaque detailing the history of the company serving as the only ornamentation, but this only gave the lobby a more modern and spacious feel. The fourth wall was transparent, a giant glass window to the busy city outside. The only furniture present consisted of a sleek chrome front desk along the far wall, and small table in the center of the room. When Steve walked past, a six-foot glowing holographic map of the tower flickered to life, revolving slowly above the table.

As he entered the elevator, he frowned suddenly. "JARVIS," he said, "did you say this was _Avengers_ Tower?"

"Yes, Captain. Mr. Stark has been trying out several different names over the past few months."

_Avengers Tower._ Steve pondered this as the elevator steadily climbed upward. It did have a certain ring to it.

With a ding, the doors finally slid open, and Steve walked out into a very cluttered laboratory. Almost immediately, he winced from the noise. Heavy metal music was blaring from hidden speakers, and various tools lay scattered across the floor. Stark was on his back beneath a car, tinkering with the engine.

Steve cleared his throat. "Tony?"

He didn't move from his position underneath the car. "Are you the pizza guy? If not, go away." He stuck a hand out. "Dummy, hand me the socket wrench." A nearby robot whirred in response and picked up a screwdriver hopefully. "No, the other wrench, dammit."

"Stark, it's Rogers," Steve said a little irritably.

"Rogers? I don't think I know a Rogers—oh, Capsicle, you finally got here." Tony slid out from under the car, his hair sticking up and his hands covered in oil. "Do we have an appointment or something?"

"You said you finished decoding the Winter Soldier's file."

"Did I?" Wiping his hands off on a filthy rag, Stark strolled over to a desk and shoved loose papers and dirty coffee mugs out of the way. He quickly typed something into his computer, and an array of 3D blueprints sprung up in a circle around him. "Hmmm... you sure about that? I've been pretty busy with a new project lately, I don't think I would've had time... oh, wait, do you mean this thing?" He swiped a hand to the side, and a collection of documents appeared.

Steve hurried forward. "Yes, that's it. Did you finish?"

"Nope."

Steve took a deep breath and tried to resist the urge to smack him. "Then why did you tell Agent Romanoff that you did?"

"Well, I partly finished it. Though I guess that kind of contradicts the definition of finishing. I figured out the first bit —quite genius, really, they set it up in multiple parts with a couple non-numeric ciphers thrown in so it had to be started manually; no doubt that's why SHIELD's codebreakers failed miserably at cracking it. Now JARVIS is working on the rest." Tony paused and raised an eyebrow at Steve. "Did you know that your friend's been cryogenically frozen, brainwashed, and systematically tortured by means of electric shock for the past seventy years or so? Looks like you're not the only ninety-year-old ninja around anymore, Spangles."

Steve gritted his teeth. "You read the file."

Tony waved a hand dismissively. "Privacy ceased to exist with the invention of the internet, Cap. Get used to it." He rooted through a desk drawer and pulled out a folder. "Here's what I've translated so far. I thought it would be a good idea to give you a paper copy, considering you still seem to have trouble turning your phone on. By the way, if your friend ever wants to stop by, let him know he's welcome." He tossed the folder to Steve.

Surprised, Steve easily caught it in one hand. "Bucky's in SHIELD custody for killing dozens, maybe hundreds of people," he said bitterly. "Aren't you worried he's some kind of dangerous Soviet fanatic like everyone else?"

"One man's freedom fighter is another guy's terrorist," Stark replied cheerily. "Whose quote is that, Gandhi or George Washington? Whatever, the point is, your friend's just on the wrong side. I mean, a few years ago, I was selling weapons of mass destruction. Look at me now! America's favorite self-obsessed genius celebrity, right here. And even if the Winter Soldier were crazy, I'd still want to meet him. That arm of his?" Tony shook his head. "Quality robotics right there. Cybernetics have never been my specialty—it's a bit, uh, creepy for my taste—but I'd love to get a look at that. The way they managed to integrate the wiring without damaging any of the smaller nerve fibers? Absolutely fantastic. Of course, I'd have designed it better." Tony pulled up a new hologram, shaping it with his hands into a bionic arm as he spoke. "They've used a combination of titanium and adamantium plating, but I would refinish the whole thing in vibranium-iron alloy. Expensive, sure, but way more durable and vibration absorbent. And notice how the finger structure is a bit fragile in some places? Why not just meld these two pieces together and add another joint here for flexibility-"

"Tony," Steve interrupted. "Thanks for what you said, but I have no idea what you're talking about."

Stark sighed dramatically and rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I forget I'm living in a world full of idiots." He swiped his hand through the hologram, and it disappeared. "Hey, JARVIS, get me those designs for my new project. And order donuts."

"Of course, sir. May I remind you that you have already consumed several boxes—"

"No, you may not," Tony cut in. He glanced back at Steve. "Don't blame yourself for what happened with your friend, Cap. He fell in a freaking ravine; even if you'd wasted time looking for him, you probably wouldn't have found him. And all that stuff that happened after..." His eyes focused on the folder in Steve's hand. "Well, that wasn't your doing, either."

That was unexpected. "Tony..." Steve cleared his throat. "I know we got off on the wrong foot, but—"

"Uh, you can go now. You're distracting me." Stark turned away and started sifting through blueprints, selecting one that depicted what looked like the structure of a new suit, although it was much larger and bulkier than any of his previous models. Its title, Anti-Green Project, was partially covered by a notice that read,_ hulkbuster? see Banner. _"JARVIS? Where did my coffee go?"

Steve opened his mouth to object, but gave up before he even began. It was pointless. He quickly left the tower and began walking to the train station.

It was time to head back to DC.


	6. Chapter 6

"Excuse me, ma'am."

"How can I help you, sir?" the woman at the front desk asked dully, not bothering to look up from her computer.

Steve leaned forward. "I'm looking for the Winter—"

"Captain!"

Steve swiveled around just as Agent Maria Hill strode up. "I assume you're here to see... your friend?" she asked, glancing around warily as though she expected someone to listen in on their conversation, even though they were safely inside SHIELD headquarters.

"Yes, I just got back from New York last night, and I wanted to check on him."

Meanwhile, the woman at the front desk was staring at them both with wide eyes. "Holy—" She caught herself. "You're Captain America!"

Steve spared her a quick grin. "Nice to meet you."

As he followed Agent Hill down a nearby corridor, he heard the woman mutter under her breath to someone next her, "Told you we'd meet hot secret agents if we worked here."

"So," Agent Hill began. "Why were you in New York? Does it have something to do with that folder you're carrying?"

"What, this?" Steve laughed awkwardly and tucked Bucky's file under his arm. He hated lying, but he didn't think he wanted SHIELD to see it yet. "These are just a few design ideas from Tony. I, uh, hung out at his place for a bit, and we got to talking about some of his projects."

"Really? I wasn't under the impression that you two were still in touch since the Battle of New York," Hill commented, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, it's always good to get to know your teammates," Steve replied stiffly.

Thankfully, Agent Hill didn't pursue the matter. She led him through another hallway and down a flight of stairs, finally coming to a halt in front of a broad steel door to quickly tap in a key code. The door slid open, and Steve followed her through.

They were in some kind of observation room. Several men and women were seated at desks with tablets or notepads in their hands, staring avidly through a large one-way mirror into a cramped concrete room. Inside the room sat Bucky, facing a dark-suited agent across a table.

"You're interrogating him already?" Steve asked incredulously. "He just got out of surgery a day ago!"

"His healing abilities are remarkable," Hill said. "Even more efficient than yours, it seems. On some of his more minor bullet wounds, stitches weren't even necessary because the tissue knit itself back together so quickly. In fact, most of the doctors agree that the main reason his heart stopped wasn't because of trauma from blood loss; rather, his metal arm was giving off erratic electrical pulses that interfered with his neural pathways." She took Steve's arm and led him away from the window toward a nearby computer, where she quickly typed in a password and pulled up a set of documents. "If you don't mind, Steve, Fury wants you to see this."

She clicked, and a video began to play.

Bucky was lying in a hospital bed in a white room, eyes closed and face pale. An IV dripped steadily into his arm. "This is security camera footage from last night, when the Soldier was recovering from surgery," Hill explained.

As Steve watched, a nurse bustled into the room, whistling to herself. She bent down to check the IV. Bucky's eyes snapped open. So quickly that Steve barely even saw it happen, the Winter Soldier's titanium hand closed around her throat.

There was no sound in the video, but Steve could tell the nurse was trying to scream. Her feet kicked uselessly against the tile floor, and soon agents rushed into the room, guns at the ready. Bucky ripped the IV out with a spurt of blood and threw the nurse across the room, looking around wildly. He was shouting something, but Steve couldn't hear.

Agent Hill paused the video before Steve could see the rest. "The drugs we gave him should have knocked him out for several hours at least," she said dryly. "He was awake within two."

Steve stared at the screen. Bucky looked... savage. Like a wild animal. "What was he saying?" Hill gave Steve a quizzical look, so he clarified. "In the video, Bucky was saying something."

Agent Hill frowned and logged out of the computer. "He was disoriented from both physical and psychological trauma; I don't think you should put much weight into his words. But according to the agents who witnessed the incident, the Soldier kept repeating, 'Not again.'"

Steve's mouth felt dry as he glanced at the file in his hand.

"Listen," he said suddenly. "Can I talk to him?"

"He hasn't spoken once since his outburst, not even to our best interrogators," Agent Hill said dismissively. "I doubt that—" Suddenly she paused and put a hand to her earpiece. She nodded once, said, "Yes, sir," and then looked back at Steve. "I take that back. Fury wants you to speak with the Soldier now, if you're up for it."

A minute later, Steve was inside the interrogation room, watching the agent who had previously questioned Bucky gather his things. On the way out, the agent clapped Steve on the shoulder and said, "Good luck getting anything out of him." Then the door closed softly, and Steve and the Winter Soldier were alone.

Well, not truly alone. Steve was certain that Hill and her entourage were watching attentively from behind the one-way mirror.

Steve slid into the seat across from Bucky and waited.

The Soldier was staring down at the plastic table between them, completely void of expression. Disheveled brown hair hung in lank curtains around his face, and he had a fading bruise on his jaw. He didn't look up when Steve sat down.

"Bucky," Steve said finally, "I didn't know that SHIELD was tracking you through me."

No response.

"I'm sorry about what happened, but I meant everything I said back there. You're my friend."

Blue eyes flickered up to meet his, then back down to stare at the floor. Steve took this as a good sign.

"I... I have part of your file," Steve continued. "From HYDRA. I didn't read it, though. I figured I should ask permission first." He slid it across the table. "And I thought you might want to see it, too."

The Winter Soldier stared at him blankly for a moment, then glanced warily at the folder on the table. He didn't pick it up. Then, "Why are you doing this?"

"You have the right to know what they did to you, probably more than anyone else does."

Another long period of silence passed. Suddenly, Bucky looked up. "I know you," he said in a low voice. He looked confused.

"Yeah," Steve whispered. "Yeah, you do."

"The man in the suit, the one who wasn't a doctor, he told me—" Bucky stopped and put a hand to his head, closing his eyes briefly. "I don't remember."

When his eyes opened again, they were chips of ice. He picked up the file and scanned the text slowly at first, then rapidly, quickly flipping through the pages. Suddenly he threw it down and stood, his chair toppling over with a crash.

"You're lying," he hissed. "That isn't me."

Steve stood in concern. "Bucky—"

"That's not my name!" he shouted. He slammed his metal fist into the table, and Steve jumped back. "You were my mission, and I failed it. You _made_ me fail. They're going to hurt me because of you. They're going to make me come back and then they'll make me kill all of you, over and over again so I remember, just like they did last time."

"No, they won't," Steve insisted. "You don't have to go back—"

Then the Winter Soldier's arm was against his throat and Steve was pressed up against the wall. "I don't have a choice."

"Yes, you do," Steve gasped. "You proved it when you saved me from drowning that day."

Ten seconds passed. Twenty. Then Bucky stepped away from him, and Steve leaned against the wall gratefully, massaging his throat.

Bucky turned away so Steve couldn't see his face. "I went to that museum exhibit," he said finally. "I didn't know anything except for the name you called me, and... you're right, I didn't want to go back." Bucky glanced at the folder on the table again. "But the things I read at the museum aren't like the information in that folder."

"Whatever is in that file isn't going to change anything."

Bucky looked back at Steve with a slightly twisted smile on his face. "I don't remember doing half the things your file claims I've done, but I know enough to say for sure that it _will _change things, for someone like you."

"I'm not going to give up on you, Bucky," Steve said earnestly, "no matter what."

"Then read it." The Winter Soldier righted his chair and sat down again, shoulders slumping forward. "Read the damn file, if you're so certain. Read it, and try not to 'give up on me' like you did seventy years ago when Bucky Barnes died falling from that train."

Steve felt like he'd been punched. "Bucky..."

But the Winter Soldier had resumed staring silently at the floor with a face cold and emotionless as ice, so without another word, Steve stood up, grabbed the folder, and walked away.

Angrily, he shoved through the door and past the crowd of SHIELD agents, ignoring Hill's attempt to stop him as he headed toward the hallway.

"Hey," a voice said softly. Natasha was striding beside him, wearing casual leggings with her red hair tucked underneath a hoodie.

"Hi," Steve said shortly. "I don't mean to be rude—"

"Then don't be," Natasha responded, placing one hand on his arm and forcing him to halt. "Steve, I know you don't want to listen to what I have to say right now. I know you're upset about what happened with the Winter Soldier. So I'm just going to give you some friendly advice." She met Steve's eyes. "That man is not your friend, and it would be unwise for you to continue pretending he is."

Steve sighed despite himself. "Natasha, we've already been over this."

"Please just hear me out," she said sharply. Surprised, Steve fell silent. "When I told you about how I met him, I wasn't being strictly honest. It's true that I never knew Bucky Barnes. But I did know the Winter Soldier. When I was with the KGB, he and I worked together for a time. He was my... mentor, of a sort. You could say we were pretty close. One day, he disappeared. My superiors said he had been reassigned. Years later, working for a different organization, I saw him again. And he shot me through the stomach to kill the man I was protecting."

"I... I'm sorry." Not for the first time, Steve wondered just how well he really knew the Black Widow.

She took a step closer. "He didn't recognize me, Steve. Whatever HYDRA did to him... there's no fighting it. He's not Bucky Barnes, and he's not the man I once knew, either. I've heard about old Soviet programs like this—every mission, they remake the soldier into a blank slate, and there's no going back."

Steve took this all in with a straight face, but inside, he felt even more lost and uncertain than before. Still, he said evenly, "I said to Bucky once that I'd be with him till the end of the line. I mean to keep that promise."

Natasha exhaled and nodded slowly, not appearing at all surprised by his response. "I figured you would say something like that," she said quietly. "Well, it was worth a try."

Then she disappeared back down the hallway, leaving Steve on his own.

* * *

**Thank you to ****Riderazzo ****for the idea to use Black Widow and Bucky's relationship from the comic books! But just so you guys know, I've never actually read the comic books and this story is mostly movie-verse, so I apologize in advance if I accidentally contradict something major from the comics. As always, thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

Steve's feet pounded against the pavement, his breathing steady as he sprinted along the edge of the memorial pool. A light breeze rippled gently across the tranquil water. It was a beautiful autumn morning, albeit slightly chilly, and the sun's first rays were just beginning to peek over the skyline, clearing away the last wisps of fog hanging over the city. For once, Steve didn't pay any attention to the scenery.

He had read the Winter Soldier's file last night.

As soon as he had gotten back to his apartment, he'd dumped his shield in the closet and taken out the folder, hesitating only for a second before opening to the first page. He could still see it all in his mind's eye now, as though it was right in front of him.

_Name:_

_James Buchanan "Bucky" Barnes. Alias Winter Soldier. _

_*Subject goes by alias at all times and is to remain unaware of former titles._

_Status:_

_Currently completing Assignment: Fury, Nicholas J in Washington, DC. Will be available for new assignment after completion of Project: Insight._

_Personal History: _

_Subject discovered at Incident Site 06 on 03/02/1947. Revived from cryostasis on 01/26/1954 for reintroduction of Project: Soldier. Subject has worked with the following organizations:_

_Biological and Medical Experimentation Division_

_ First Chief Directorate, KGB_

_ HYDRA_

_(Subject also spent brief training period at Red Room Facility. See _Training and Experience_ for details.)_

_*Subject is to remain unaware of _Personal History.

_Experiments/Tests:_

_Unknown tests performed prior to discovery. Later tests include the following:_

_ Serum D12 - successful_

_ Bionic alterations - successful_

_ Improvements to sympathetic and sensory nervous systems - successful, but caused increased aggression_

_ Cerebral Electroconvulsive Therapy - successful_

_(See _Medical Notes_ for details.)_

_*Subject is to remain unaware of all tests performed._

_Health Issues:_

_Requires regular shock therapy to maintain amnesia and obedience. _

_Medical Notes:_

_1/26/54_

_ Revived from cryostasis. Amputated left arm, heavy bleeding. Subject unconscious. Emergency injection of Serum D12. _

_2/02/54_

_ Subject stable; first successful trial of Serum D12. Perhaps due to previous experimentation? Results include:_

_ Accelerated healing, approx. 6-8 times average rate._

_ Decreased resting heart rate, approx. 33 bpm. _

_ Increased muscle mass._

_2/28/54_

_ Attempted fitting with prosthetic arm. Triggered immune response. Unsuccessful. Subject unstable._

_5/24/54_

_ Successful fitting with prosthetic arm. _

_5/30/54_

_ Subject woke at 0637 hrs. Delirious; accelerated heart rate. Attacked Dr. Solovyov. Returned to cryostasis._

_8/04/54_

_ Revived from cryostasis. Additional alterations to sympathetic and sensory nervous systems inserted via engineered test virus 10756. _

_8/25/54_

_ First trial of Cerebral Electroconvulsive Therapy (CET), 50 mA._

_8/26/54_

_ Second trial of CET, 100 mA. _

_8/27/54_

_ Third trial of CET, 200 mA. Subject in extreme pain. _

_8/28/54_

_ Fourth trial of CET, 300 mA, ideal dosage. Subject in extreme pain. Successfully induced amnesia._

The medical notes had continued for several pages with similar entries. Steve hadn't been able to read the "Assignment List" or "Training and Experience" sections, since most of the file was still encrypted. But after what he'd read, he wasn't sure if he even wanted Tony to decode the rest.

..._Subject in extreme pain..._

A bead of sweat trickled down Steve's neck. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind of thoughts about the file. He was nearing the end of his route, and sure enough, he saw Sam waiting for him, leaning against a tree near the sidewalk and gasping for breath. Steve jogged over.

"Did I... did I beat you?" Sam panted, one hand clutching his side.

"No. I lapped you twice."

Sam groaned and keeled over onto the lawn. "How the hell do you run so fast? I didn't even notice when you passed me." He frowned. "Wait... I didn't even notice?" Sam glanced up at Steve. "But you always say something obnoxious when you lap me to 'motivate me' or whatever."

Steve laughed. "I'd hardly call it obnoxious, more like healthy competition between friends."

"Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that." Sam waved a hand. "But seriously, Steve. You okay?"

Steve sighed and sat down on the dewy grass next to Sam. "It's not me that's the problem," he answered finally. "It's just... I don't know what to do about Bucky."

Sam didn't say anything.

"Sometimes he seems almost normal, and then he changes again. I read his HYDRA file—they did terrible things to him, Sam. It's not his fault that he's like this, if anything, it's mine. He didn't deserve what happened to him."

"First of all, none of this is your fault, so get that ridiculous idea out of your head. And second, a lot of people don't deserve what's happened to them. Life isn't always fair, Steve," Sam said sarcastically.

"Fine. So the world isn't perfect," Steve retorted. "But that doesn't mean you should give up on righting its wrongs."

Sam ran a hand through his hair. "You know," he said pensively, "I once knew this guy from Afghanistan. He messed up on a training exercise and got his best friend killed, and when he came home, he started drinking, got into drugs... all the bad stuff. None of the usual therapy was helping. Then my old commanding officer comes to him and he says, 'Peterson. You're going back in the field.'" Sam grinned at the memory. "So Peterson went back for a second tour, and when he returned, he was a changed man. For some people, closure isn't enough. They need a second chance." Sam looked back at Steve. "I guess what I'm trying to say is, maybe I was wrong about Bucky. But for him to find himself again... I would guess that he needs to figure out what happened so he can fix it, instead of just ignoring it."

Steve stared at the ground. "Thanks," he said quietly. "I'll remember that."

Suddenly, a sleek black car pulled up along the curb with a screech. The tinted window rolled down to reveal Natasha in the driver's seat. "Get in, loser, we're going shopping," she drawled, idly examining her nails. She was wearing dark combat gear with her crimson hair scraped back into a ponytail. "Did you understand that reference?" she asked as Steve climbed into the car, slamming the door shut behind him.

"No."

"I didn't either," Sam supplied helpfully, standing and brushing off his shorts.

"Well, I suppose you're no worse than the average middle-aged American male, Steve," Natasha commented dryly, revving the engine.

"Wait... middle-aged? What—" Sam's protests were cut off as Natasha swerved away into the oncoming traffic, leaving him and the memorial park far behind.

"I'm surprised you haven't seen that movie, to be honest," Natasha continued as she drove. "You'd love it. Really upholds American ideals."

"Is this a regular thing now?" Steve teased. "I mean, you picking me up in random places to chauffeur me to missions while critiquing my knowledge of pop culture?"

"Did you just call me your chauff—"

"Forget I said anything," Steve said hastily. "So, what does Fury want this time?"

"SHIELD found another HYDRA base, but they're reluctant to send in a full team; they're still pretty busy with cleanup after the whole DC incident. Fury wants you, me, and Barton to recover any intel. It should be a fairly standard operation."

A HYDRA base? _He needs to figure out what happened so he can fix it, instead of just ignoring it. _All of a sudden Steve got an idea. "Just us three?" he began cautiously. "Don't you think we might need, I don't know, backup?"

"Backup?" Natasha laughed. "Since when have you ever required backup?"

"I was just thinking that maybe, well..." Steve took the plunge. "Bucky should come."


	8. Chapter 8

_"I was just thinking that maybe, well..." Steve took the plunge. "Bucky should come."_

Natasha's eyes actually widened a fraction before she caught herself and reassumed her usual composed expression. There was a brief silence. Steve had no idea what she was thinking.

Finally she said, "That's probably the most idiotic thing I've ever heard, and I work with Clint on a daily basis."

"You don't understand—"

"Actually, I understand perfectly," she interrupted. "You think that just because the Winter Soldier remembered you once or twice, he's suddenly back on the straight and narrow. Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way."

"You said you knew him, just like I did," Steve countered. "So why don't you have any faith in him?"

"I thought I knew him," Natasha snapped. "He's a bit different now from how I remember. Our supposed mutual friend has been killing innocent people for HYDRA for over half a century; crimes like that don't just disappear even if he really has switched sides." She paused, then added quietly, "After all, some stains never come out."

"This isn't even about Bucky anymore, is it?" Steve said in dawning realization. "This is about you feeling like you can't make amends for your own problems. What was it that you called it? Red in your ledger? Well, you turned yourself around, why can't—"

Natasha slammed so hard on the brakes that Steve nearly jerked forward out of his seat. The driver behind them honked and flipped them off as he swerved past them.

"Do you honestly think this is just about a personal vendetta?" she hissed. It wasn't a question.

Steve knew that he'd gone too far. "That's not what I... I'm sorry. I'm sorry, that wasn't..."

Natasha brushed him off. "It's fine." She hit the gas again, her posture forcibly nonchalant, but her knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

They drove the rest of the way in silence.

When they reached SHIELD headquarters a few minutes later, Natasha got out of the car without a word. Steve followed her into an elevator. "Romanoff, Natasha, level nine; and Rogers, Steven, level nine," she said briskly as it started its ascent.

"Verified," a smooth automatic voice responded.

"Level nine?" Steve asked curiously just as the doors slid open. They stepped out into an office. "Thought I was on eight."

"You've been promoted, Cap," someone replied. Steve scanned the room. Fury was leaning against a metal desk, and Barton was there as well, suited up with a new quiver slung across his back. Natasha moved to stand beside him and leaned over to whisper in his ear. Judging from Clint's incredulous expression, she was probably telling him about Steve's proposal.

"I presume Agent Romanoff already told you the basics?" Fury continued.

"Yes, sir."

Fury nodded. "Barton's got coordinates; the base is located within the district. Take a car, copy any important data you find, and get out ASAP. Leave everything exactly as it is. If this base is still in use, we don't want HYDRA to know we've been there."

"Right." Steve glanced at Natasha, who icily stared straight ahead. There wouldn't be any help from her. It was better to get it over with. "Sir," Steve began, "I request permission to include the Winter Soldier in this operation."

Fury made a choking sound. "You kidding me?"

"Nick, he's not working for HYDRA anymore. In fact, he's all the more valuable to us because he's got insider information." _If he remembers any of it_, Steve mentally added. "We can trust him."

Fury frowned. "I'd like to believe you, Captain, but you've got no proof. His refusal to cooperate or answer any of our questions isn't exactly helping your cause, either."

"Actually, I do have proof." Fury raised his eyebrows dubiously. "Well, there's evidence that HYDRA was brainwashing him. He didn't have any choice; he had to follow their orders. It's all in his file."

"His_ file?_" Fury said suspiciously. "I don't believe SHIELD personnel ever succeeded in decrypting his file."

Damn. Steve had assumed that Tony had given the file contents to SHIELD as well as him, but apparently that wasn't the case. "A friend helped me out," he offered as explanation.

Fury sighed and crossed his arms. "When you say 'friend,' I'm pretty sure you mean Stark, am I correct?"

Steve chose not to answer this. "Let Bucky come," he insisted. "It'll be an opportunity for him to prove he's on our side now. And it could be useful to have him there; he knows HYDRA better than any of us."

Clint had been watching this entire exchange like a tennis match, his head swinging back and forth. Now, he cleared his throat and stepped forward. "Sir, I agree with Rogers on this one. If we run into something unexpected, the Soldier's knowledge could make this mission go way faster."

At this, Natasha's expression became, if possible, even more forbidding. She looked like she wanted to throw something out the window, preferably a certain archer.

"All right," Fury conceded. "All four of you will go. But you're responsible for the Winter Soldier's actions. If something goes wrong during this operation because he loses it, you're all going to be held accountable."

"Thank you, sir," Steve said gratefully.

"I assume you've already discussed this with the Winter Soldier, of course," Fury said, beginning to turn away.

Steve coughed. "Well, not—"

"I'm going to pretend you said yes so that you don't feel as inadequate as you probably should," Fury interrupted irritably. He sat down at the desk and took out a stack of paperwork. "Now go talk to him and make sure he agrees, before I change my mind."

A minute later, Steve, Clint, and Natasha were all back in the elevator, watching the city disappear from view to be replaced with dark cement walls as they descended toward SHIELD's underground basement levels.

"Thanks for backing me up in there, Barton," Steve said after a moment. "I appreciate it."

"Yeah, well," Clint gave him a lopsided grin, "I know a thing or two about getting brainwashed. Not fun at all, especially on the receiving end. And definitely not the brainwashee's fault. Is that even a word? Brainwashee? It should be."

Natasha's expression was unreadable as Clint spoke. Then she said suddenly, "I'm sorry for how I behaved previously." Steve turned to face her, a little taken aback by her apology. "It was... unprofessional."

"No, it was my fault," Steve said. "I wasn't thinking."

"What a surprise," she replied, her lips quirking up in a smile.

Clint looked confused. "What, did you two get in a fight or something?"

Steve avoided his gaze while Natasha feigned interest in the fascinatingly nondescript ceiling.

When no one answered, Clint rolled his eyes. "I swear, no one tells me anything!" he complained. "Banner is off in Somalia rescuing baby elephants or doing something else annoyingly charitable, Tony's mad that I ruined his entire set of test arrows, and now you're both—"

"Stop talking now and I might not defenestrate you," Natasha interrupted conversationally. Clint shut up after that.

Finally the elevator doors glided open with a hiss, and they entered a corridor Steve had never been in before. Natasha led him and Barton past several doorways before eventually stopping in front of one to scan an ID badge and usher them through.

Steve looked around. They were in a dim concrete room that was mostly empty, aside from the large control panel in the corner. And the cell.

Steve had never seen anything like it. It resembled a sort of transparent rectangular box embedded in the wall, but the side nearest to Steve was flickering oddly as if an electric current ran through it, although it appeared to be made of glass. There was no furniture inside, just a plain, seamless white floor. Bucky sat slumped against a wall, his head in his hands.

"They're keeping him in a _cell_?" Steve said furiously, striding forward.

Clint tried to put a hand on his shoulder, but Steve shook him off. "I wouldn't touch it if I were—"

Steve slammed a hand against the cell wall, and then leaped back with a shout as it shimmered and pulsated like a living thing. "What the hell? It shocked me!"

"Asgardian technology," Natasha explained, crossing her arms and leaning against the door frame. "It's some kind of charged plasma field. Thor mentioned it to Fury once; now it's his new favorite toy. The Winter Soldier can't see or hear you." She turned and flicked a couple switches on the control panel. "This should fix that."

The barrier rippled briefly, and then Bucky's head snapped up sharply. He leaped to his feet.

"Bucky—" Steve began.

"What do you want?" he interrupted.

"You're getting out, Buck," Steve said. "I talked to Fury, and you're... well, you're coming on a mission with us, as part of the team."

Bucky was silent. He didn't seem impressed. Then he glanced warily at Natasha and Clint. "Who are they?" he asked flatly.

"Clint Barton, codename Hawkeye, but you may know me as the best archer of the modern age and an all-around fantastic guy," Clint said, grinning. "And this is—"

"Natasha Romanoff," Natasha announced coolly. "Though there are some who know me by different names." She stepped forward cautiously, scrutinizing Bucky's expression. "I... I was Natalia once."

Bucky stared at her doubtfully for a second, but then something in his eyes froze over. He said harshly, "I don't know you."

Natasha stepped back. "I didn't expect you would," she muttered. Something Steve couldn't quite identify (Was it regret?) flitted across her features, but then she swiped a hand across her face and took a deep breath. When she looked up again, it was with her usual impassivity. "I'll go get the car. Meet me outside the garage in ten." She strode out of the room.

Steve tried to hide his surprise at her reaction. He didn't know much about Natasha's past, other than what she had told him. Though with the massive security leak she had recently facilitated, it wasn't exactly a secret anymore.

"Bucky," he said again, "please come. You can't possibly want to stay here."

"Did you read the file?" When Steve nodded, Bucky laughed bitterly under his breath. "Then you can probably see why I'm hesitant to believe you want me along."

"Come on, Buck," Steve pleaded, "this is your chance to get back on the right side."

"You say that like it's something I should want to do. But the way I see it, there's not really a point," the Winter Soldier said dully, turning away.

"The Bucky I know wouldn't give up that easily."

There was no answer. Steve sighed.

"We're breaking into a HYDRA base on this mission, you know," Clint said suddenly. Steve turned to look at him curiously, but Barton ignored him. There was an odd expression on his face Steve had never seen before. "Do you remember what HYDRA did to you? And I don't mean meaningless medical jargon in some file." Clint took a step forward. "Do you remember," he said, "what it felt like when they listened to you scream? When they held you down and cut you open to see how you tick?" When there was no response, he repeated loudly, "Do you, soldier?"

Bucky's fists clenched.

"HYDRA stole your life away from you," Clint continued. "Because of them, you've become a machine. They're the reason you don't know who you are anymore. They made you into this." He paused, running a hand down his quiver. His tone was strangely dark when he said, "If you can't think of a better reason to join us... how about vengeance?"

There was another long silence. Then—

"I'll come."

* * *

**Sorry this took a bit longer than usual to get up, but I hope you like it! I had to fix a few grammar mistakes/typos in earlier chapters.**

**There were a couple questions about the movie reference from last chapter, so just in case you were wondering… it's from _Mean Girls_, which is my favorite movie to quote at random and completely inappropriate times. :)**

**Also, I'm glad that a lot of you liked how I wrote Bucky's file! I tried to make it seem realistic, but unfortunately my medical knowledge is pretty much limited to ninth grade biology and Wikipedia. **

**One last thing—sorry I haven't been responding to as many reviews! I read and appreciate all of them, of course, but I've been pretty busy with school lately (ugh, I despise trigonometry homework) and unfortunately I don't have time to always reply personally. But I absolutely LOVE to hear your thoughts and feedback, if you are able to give it! **

**Thanks for reading! **


	9. Chapter 9

"…And 77.206 degrees West," Clint finished, reading off the back of his hand where he'd scrawled the base coordinates in messy black sharpie. He leaned forward over Natasha's shoulder as she tapped the numbers into the GPS system. "Yeah, that looks right."

Natasha and Steve were in the front, while Clint and Bucky sat in the back. There was a palpable tension in the air. Clint and Natasha were fairly used to being a duo, and having Steve and Bucky there felt more than a little strange. Not to mention the fact that Bucky hadn't even tried to engage in conversation, instead opting for staring darkly out the window, absentmindedly opening and closing his metal hand. It still occasionally let off sparks since being damaged during his… retrieval.

"Well, boys, looks like we're headed for a change of scenery," Natasha muttered as the car sped forward. After an uncomfortable few minutes of silence, she switched on the radio.

"What the hell is this?" Clint sputtered indignantly when staticky electronic music began to play. He cleared his throat and declared formally, "Since I was unfairly deprived of my usual position as shotgun, I think I deserve some veto power in terms of radio station. I hereby invoke my rights to remedy your horrific music taste." He reached over and fiddled with the dial until Nirvana started blasting through the speakers.

Steve sat up straighter. "Wait… I actually know this song!"

Clint laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Congratulations, man. You're officially a functional member of modern—"

Suddenly, the car pulled over and jerked to halt with a screech. Clint flew forward and would have easily smashed through the windshield if Steve hadn't thrown an arm across his chest.

Natasha calmly exited the vehicle, brushing off her skintight black pants and slamming the door closed. "We're here."

"You're a terrible driver, you know that, Nat?" Clint gingerly ran his hands over his arms and legs as though checking for injuries before staggering out of the car. "I think I already broke about three bones, and the mission hasn't even started."

"Don't insult my music, then."

Steve got out as well, letting the car door swing shut behind him. He glanced around, taking in his surroundings.

They were in an old parking lot, littered with yellowing newspapers and plastic bottles. Sparse weeds sprouted up here and there between cracks in the crumbling asphalt. A huge concrete building loomed above them, looking derelict and forlorn in the rapidly dimming evening light. Most of its windows were smashed in, and fading graffiti covered the outside.

"This is the HYDRA base?" Steve said doubtfully.

"Yes."

Steve jumped. Bucky was standing right next to him. He hadn't even heard him leave the car or approach.

"I've been here before." Bucky strode across the empty lot and kicked open the metal door before disappearing inside.

"Well, so much for a plan of attack," Clint muttered before hurrying after him. With a glance at Natasha, Steve followed.

They entered a spacious room that was probably once an office space of some sort. Overturned rusty desks were strewn across the floor, along with scattered papers, shards of broken lightbulbs, and dented, archaic computer monitors.

Steve ran a finger along a chair. "No dust. This place has been used recently."

Clint, meanwhile, was flipping through a folder he'd found in a desk drawer. "This building belonged to Zeinburg Incorporated. They specialized in—"

"Biotech." Bucky was standing a few feet away, his back to them and his voice rough. "That was their cover, anyway."

Steve examined an old photograph of the company founders lying on the floor, one of the few pictures whose wooden frame remained intact. On a whim, he picked it up. Something fell out of the back as he did so, and he caught it and looked it over. It was a quarter. Frowning, Steve pocketed it before putting the photograph back. "Hey, Bucky—"

"Boys," Natasha called from the hallway. "I think I found something."

They found her in a cramped janitor's closet, crouched behind a cluttered heap of buckets and empty detergent bottles. There was a tiny glowing keypad set in the wall, and she quickly scanned it using a small device and tapped in the code.

The floor shook, and then Natasha grabbed Clint and dragged him inside. "Get in!" The four of them piled inside just as the closet—no, elevator—began to glide down into pitch-black darkness. When it finally shuddered to a halt, Steve heard one of the walls slide aside with a groan, and they stepped out. Blindingly bright lights flickered on.

Clint's hand strayed toward his bow. "What is this place?"

They seemed to be in some kind of immense medical research lab. Rows and rows of orderly white lab tables with microscopes, test tubes, thermal cyclers, and sleek machinery Steve couldn't even begin to guess the purpose of stretched across the tiled floor. Filing cabinets and refrigerators containing hundreds of blood bags lined the walls. What captured Steve's attention the most, however, was the contraption in the corner of the room.

It resembled a chair, but "torture device" would be a more apt description. Restraints attached to the metal armrests, and an EKG machine, along with several computers, was placed next to it. A tangle of wires connected to a frightening-looking headpiece.

As Natasha and Clint quickly got to work downloading information from computers and rifling through folders, Bucky walked over to the device. Hesitating for only a moment, Steve followed.

Bucky cautiously ran a hand over the armrests. Dried blood crusted the edges, as though someone had clenched his or her fists so tightly that fingernails had pierced the skin.

"I remember this," he said in an odd voice. His fingers brushed away some of the gathering dust on the EKG screen, and then for some reason he laughed. "I can't remember my missions or anything from before, but I remember this and what it felt like to bleed out in the snow. I guess painful memories are more durable than pleasant ones."

Steve thought back to the file he'd read, and suddenly felt sick. "Was this where… where they…"

"I've only been here once or twice." Bucky walked around to the back of the chair. "Just to keep me… stable… after assignments." He added bitterly, "They had to make sure the dog wouldn't bite back."

"Did it hurt?" Steve mentally berated himself for being so insensitive as soon as he asked. Obviously it hurt. There were restraints and dried blood, how could it have been anything but extremely painful? He could barely get Bucky to talk about anything, and now he'd be even more reluctant to—

"Not really."

Steve, mouth already half-open to apologize, looked up in surprise.

Bucky had a strange, almost disturbing expression on his face. His hand ghosted lovingly over the machinery. "The pain was… easier to manage once I stopped fighting it. They were just trying to make me better. To improve me." He picked up a remote left on top of one of the computer monitors and looked at it curiously.

Suddenly nervous, Steve stepped forward. "Bucky…"

"It was nice, you know? To not remember any of it. To just do what they said." He flipped a switch on the remote, and the machine thrummed to life, the computer screens lighting up as various buttons flickered to green. "The doctors told me I was the next stage in bionic technology," he continued. He reached out to touch the glowing wires. "A miracle."

Steve knocked the remote out of his hand, sending it skidding across the floor, and the machine shut down again with a hum. "Bucky—"

But then Bucky grabbed his shirt in his metal hand and slammed him against a cabinet. "Why did you do that?" His eyes were savage but somehow dead at the same time, like when he had killed that officer and attacked the nurse, and it scared Steve.

Steve shoved him back. "You weren't acting like yourself!"

"I told you before, you don't know me. I don't need your help."

All of sudden Steve was angry. Why did Bucky always have to push him away? "HYDRA experimented on you! They didn't improve you; that was just what they told you they were doing. And how can you say it was better to lie down and take it, to be their willing lab rat, than to stand and fight like a man?"

Steve regretted the words as soon as he said them, but he couldn't take them back.

It was as though something in Bucky's eyes that had just begun to melt froze over again. "It's a bit difficult to 'stand and fight,'" he said slowly, "when you're drugged up and strapped to an operating table."

Steve exhaled. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I… I'm your friend, I didn't mean—"

"You meant exactly what you said," the Winter Soldier said dispassionately. "You proved the strength of our supposed friendship when you left Bucky Barnes for dead in Germany. The Soviets saved me then, not you, after everything I did for you." And now the unfeeling mask cracked, and rage was building in every syllable he spoke. "_I_ saved _you _when you used to get beat up in alleys all the time because you didn't know how to keep your mouth shut! I went to your mother's funeral with you and offered you a place to stay even though money was tight and I knew my family couldn't afford it! I was always there for you and you just _left _me there—" Suddenly he broke off.

There was a strained silence as they both realized exactly what he had just said. Then,

"You remember that?"

Bucky abruptly turned away. One hand went to his head, as though in pain, while his metal hand clenched into a fist. "I…"

"Whoa! How'd you find this? Have you checked it out yet?" Clint sprinted up, skidding to a halt as he gestured behind them. A second later he processed the shell-shocked expressions on each of their faces. "Um," he coughed awkwardly, "if this is a bad time…"

Steve shook his head, though his eyes remained fixed on Bucky_. _"What is it?" he asked, just as he turned around and saw for himself.

When Bucky had slammed Steve against the cabinet, it had shifted slightly. Now a trapdoor embedded in the floor was clearly visible.

Steve glanced questioningly at Bucky, but the Winter Soldier looked confused. "I never knew there was anything down there," he muttered.

Natasha sauntered up, stashing away a couple of flash drives into her vest. With one glance at Steve and Bucky, she seemed to grasp exactly what had happened. She sighed and rolled her eyes.

"So, ladies first?" Then she heaved open the wooden door with a creak and leaped down inside.

* * *

**Okay... I am SO SORRY that this took so much longer than usual! If you expected this chapter to be posted about a month ago and were disappointed when it wasn't, I apologize profusely. I blame studying for finals, my friend's ridiculous idea of having an X-Men movie marathon in preparation for DOFP, and a bad case of writer's block. **

**Just so you guys know, I have plans for this story and I promise not to give it up! Future updates might be slightly sporadic, but I expect to finish this by the end of summer, as there are only a few more chapters to go. ****So, I hope you like this chapter! Sorry if it's not quite up to my usual standard... I suddenly got the idea for it at 1:00 in the morning and wrote it in a couple hours.**

**Finally, thanks for all the wonderful reviews from last chapter! You are all so supportive and encouraging, it blows my mind. Thank you!**


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